Over the Hills and Far Away
by Kalyra Shadowdancer
Summary: One shot songfic, takes place in the first year after the events of At World's End SPOILERS!


Disclaimer: I don't own this song, or the characters from POTC (much as I wish I did) so don't sue me.

A/N: I am a MAJOR fan of Nightwish – for those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, they are a Finnish operatic metal band, and they are AMAZING. Lots of their music is fantasy based, and contains referenced from Lord of the Rings to Dragonlance and other fantasy series. Anyways I digress. The song I've used is Over the Hills and Far Away, for anyone who DOES listen to Nightwish I have taken some liberties with the lyrics since the songs original premise did not quite fit what I wanted to do with it, but I hope you like it anyway – and listen to the original song anyway! It's really good!

--- and don't forget to review!

_**They came for him one rainy night.  
Arrested, he was bound.  
They said there'd been a robbery,  
his pistol had been found.  
**_

Will leaned back against the creaking timbers of the Flying Dutchman. The waves lapped peacefully against the hull, but Will did not find it calming. These frail timbers, these treacherous waters, and the curse placed on him by two warring lovers all kept him from being where he most wanted to be. He laughed at the irony. He was master of the seas, a Lord among pirates; he could roam three quarters of the world, and all trading companies feared him, yet for all that, he could return to that one isle of sanctuary but once every ten years.

His mind wandered back to the beginning – or at least the beginning of where everything had gone wrong. The night he'd been arrested.

It felt like it had only been yesterday. Memories of the land were hard to come by for Will now, so he did this often – traveled back in time in his own mind, to preserve his memories, to hold onto them. He wondered briefly if Davy Jones had done this as well, and if someday he, like Jones, would forget all about his life on land and surrender himself body and soul to the sea. Will shuddered at the thought, and steered his memory back to that night –

"_Yes? Can I help you?" Will opened the door and froze as he saw the British officers standing there. What now? Elizabeth's father had granted him clemency after that whole piracy escapade. And surely he hadn't changed his mind. Their wedding was tomorrow!_

"_I'm sorry sir, but we're here to arrest you," one of the officers stepped forward. _

"_What!" Will was outraged. "I've been granted clemency!"_

_The officer had the grace to look embarrassed about the whole situation. "I'm sorry sir, its not on the gov'ner's orders. We were commanded by higher-ups."_

_Will looked ready to slam the door. His black eyes flashed with irritation and anger. "What is the charge?" _

"_Robbery, sir? They found your pistol at the scene. You're to come with us and plead your case to – well, plead your case tomorrow morning."_

"_That is ridiculous. I'm a swordmaker. I don't even own a pistol."_

"_Sir, those are our orders. Will you come willingly or shall we use force?"_

"_Oh bloody hell, I'll come." Will said irritably, opening the door the rest of the way. "Just let me put some things away."_

"_Right, then, sir."_

"_And stop calling me sir."_

"_Right."_

_Will let the officers take him away in manacles, thinking that since this really was a mistake, he would just talk to whoever was in charge of these men and get things sorted out before the wedding. He just prayed it wouldn't take too long. Elizabeth would have his hide if he was late for his own wedding. Then again, everything that happened in Port Royal was monitored by her father. Even if whoever was behind this wasn't from Port Royal, Will was certain Governor Swann would find out about it before long and straighten things out – much as Will hated to depend on him. Little did he know exactly where this seemingly innocuous event would lead. _

_** They marched him to the station house,  
he waited for the dawn.  
And as they led him past the docks,  
he knew that he'd been wronged. **_

_Will leaned back against the cold stones of the jail cell. He'd spent far too many days behind bars. His recent adventuring had led to some not-so-friendly places, such as jail cells and brigs, the inner hulls of pirate ships, and the business end of unfriendly swords and pistols. His one comfort was the hope that Governer Swann respected him enough to at least find out what had happened to him. Will just hoped he didn't alert Elizabeth. He didn't want her panicked over this stupid little incident. _

_The night grew brighter outside, and he realized he hadn't slept at all. Morning dawned just as foggy and rainy as the night before, the light struggling to find cracks in the heavy grey clouds. The guards beyond the station house door were very drunk by now. He could hear their rowdy talk through the thin wooden door._

"_What does Beckett want with him?"_

"'_Ow shuu I know? I jus' arres' 'em, 'n don quession 'is lordship."_

"'_E wuzz gran'ed clemmacy affer tha' piratin' escapade though. An' 'E's weddin' tha Gov'ner's daughter hic tomorrer. 'E's small fry. Ain't got nuthin ta pin on 'im!"_

_Will frowned. 'Nothing to pin on him'? What about the robbery charges? He understood that for a while everything that went wrong in Port Royal had been blamed on him. Even after he'd been granted clemency, he'd been arrested a few times by officers eager to jail the 'pirate'. Governor Swann had always been there to uphold his innocence, ensure the real criminal was caught, and get him released. Although he had resented depending on connections to keep himself out of jail, rather than his real innocence, Will wasn't about to refuse his fiancee's father's assistance. And right about now, he was really wondering what was taking so long. _

"_Ain't about pinning nothing. 'eard Lord Beckett needs summat of that damn pirate. Tole us to get that Will on some trumped up charges. 'E wants a talk wit 'im."_

"_But – " _

_Whatever the other guard had been about to say was cut off by a slamming of doors, and then new voices. _

_  
"You dad-blamed idiots! Drunk! Get your sorry asses out of here before I report you! Good Lord, what is this world coming to?"_

_There was some more yelling and some slurred protesting, and then several sharp clangs and the door slammed twice. Will was still processing what he'd heard, and wondering who the guards were referring to as a 'damn pirate' – himself? Or maybe Jack? In either case he realized now that he really had no clue what was going on – and neither did the guards. This went far deeper than a mistaken charge pinned on him because of his escapade with Jack – he had a feeling it wasn't going to be so easy to wriggle out of this one. And if Governor Swann had been able to do anything, he surely would have acted by now…_

_**He knew without a single doubt,  
tomorrow's light would mourn his freedom.  
**_

_Will's chat with Beckett that morning after being dragged unceremoniously to his own wedding, seeing Elizabeth arrested, and not even being told his actual charges, despite having an official warrant flashed in front of him. The sight of a warrant confirmed his thoughts that this was far deeper than he'd originally thought, particularly seeing warrants for himself, Elizabeth, AND Norrington. Something was going on. This suspicion was confirmed with Beckett's offer to grant him his freedom if Will brought him Jack's compass. _

"Sir, if we continue on this heading we will hit land," a worried voice interrupted Will's reminiscing.

"Sorry, what?" Will asked, straightening against the ship's rail, and turning to the crewman who was calling to him from the quarterdeck. Then he noticed they were heading dangerously close to land. Will cursed himself for not paying attention, and yelled new heading coordinates in the general direction of the helmsman as he scrambled down off the forecastle and headed aft. He was obviously heard, since when he'd gotten about halfway across the deck he heard the ship's timbers groan as the ship swerved mightily. The crew breathed a sigh of relief as the Flying Dutchman headed back out to sea, but Will climbed the rigging and gripped the hemp ropes white knuckled, watching the horizon until land was out of sight.

_** Over the hills and far away,  
for ten long years he'll count the days.  
Over the mountains and the seas,  
a prisoner's life for him there'll be.  
**_

Freedom was a funny thing, Will mused, sitting on the bowsprit, and watching the sea foam beneath him as the Dutchman caught the wind and ran with it. Dolphins played in the wake, and gallivanted alongside. Will envied them their joyful giddiness, and their freedom. Freedom could mean so many different things to different people. For Jack, Will was certain, freedom was nothing more than the open sea, a full crew, and a fast ship. To Jack, being cursed to one day ashore every ten years would not be a hardship.

If Will was honest with himself, he didn't really mind the sea that much – in fact after all his adventures he doubted he could have ever returned to a quiet life of blacksmithing in Port Royal – not with the draw of the open ocean. The real curse was that with his new duties, Elizabeth could not come with him, Pirate Queen or no. And so, to Will, the Dutchman was just as much a prison as the station house in Port Royal, or the brig of the Pearl. To Will, freedom was being with Elizabeth, wherever that might be.

It was strange to think about. Of this world he lived in, three-quarters was covered in water, according to the East India Trading Company's maps. Three-quarters! And yet all his thoughts dwelt on a tiny isle that was part of the one-quarter of the world closed to him. Will could roam the whole world over, see many wonders, go to the edge of the world – and beyond – and yet he couldn't step ashore. He had simultaneously obtained both the most and least freedom he had ever had all at once. A paradox of unfathomable proportions.

_** He had known that it would cost him dear**_

_**And yet fate he'd dared gainsay,**_

_**Until events that fateful night**_

_**A secret they must stay **_

This is his reward for tempting fate. For getting involved with Jack Sparrow, for learning about his father, his heritage, for trying to change his fate. Fate was a funny thing too, Will thought, considering things between Calypso and Davy Jones. A man and a sea goddess – had their destiny been set ahead of time? If they could go back in time, would they have done things differently? Was the cost worth the gain? He thought of his own situation. Was the torture of seeing Elizabeth only once every ten years better than simply dying? He shook his head – of course it was! It was just that having so much time to himself to think called these dark thoughts to mind like a heavy fog.

_** He had to fight back tears of pain.  
His heartbeat like a drum.  
Remembering how with his wife at last**_

_**He spent his final night of freedom.  
**_

His situation was different, Will told himself. Elizabeth would keep his heart safe from those who would use him as Beckett had used Jones. That must stay secret. He would return to her every ten years. Ten years! The numbers hit him hard. She would grow old, she would live her life and he would not be there to share it with her. And if they ever had children! Will's tears traced shining trails down his face, before falling from his perch on the bowsprit and disappearing into the sea.

_** Over the hills and far away,  
for ten long years he'll count the days.  
Far from the mountains, he sails the seas,  
back in her arms he swears he'll be.  
**_

He would give anything to see Elizabeth now, be with her now. Nothing had gone how it was supposed to for them. At first, he thought he'd never had a chance with her – a lowly blacksmith and the governor's daughter! That was a laugh! And then their first adventure and his discovery of his parentage and pirate heritage. But Elizabeth did not care that he was a pirate. She turned down a marriage of safety and prestige with Commodore Norrington to stay with him. He had not been able to believe it at first. But he had quickly warmed to the idea – they would marry and settle in Port Royal. That plan had been thwarted by Beckett – and then somewhere amidst stormy seas, slippery rigging, deadly swordfights, and a touch of destiny, Will had realized that they could never be happy settled in Port Royal like any other couple. He had begun to wonder if perhaps they couldn't make a life for themselves at sea once they were married – a life of a pirate was not much to offer children, but the sea was in their blood now – his and Elizabeth's, even before she was made Pirate Queen.

But all that had been taken away from them when to save his own life he'd stabbed the heart of Davy Jones. He barely remembered it – bleeding from the mortal wound inflicted by Jones' sword, the beating organ thrust toward him, a knife placed in his hand, Jack standing over him, Jack – that interfering busybody. Neither fully good nor fully evil, he walked that fine fine line between enemy and ally – untrustable, unreliable, incomprehensible – but he did the right thing in the end. Giving up his own chance at immortality to save Will's life, for Will was certain that Jack had intended to kill Jones himself and become captain of the Dutchman. Will was still uncertain what had prompted Jack to save his life, since he still couldn't think of an angle where saving Will's life profited Jack, and profit was all Jack was concerned about, one way or another. That was one thing he really hated about pirates. They were never square with you. He missed Elizabeth's frankness and unwavering loyalty.

That was the one memory he could not force himself to remember – that last night before taking up his duties as Captain of the Dutchman – his wedding night with Elizabeth. Will knew that if he tried to remember, it was there, preserved crystal clear in his memory, but it hurt too much to think of Elizabeth when he could not see her again for years. His last night as a free man – he could not think of a better way to have spent it, and yet Elizabeth deserved better, a man who could stay by her side. And yet he knew he would not want her to take another, knew she would never take anyone but him. Their love could prevail even over this, their hardest trial yet. Through his tears he swore, no matter how far he would sail in between, he would return to her, and in her arms is where he would spend his one day of freedom.

Until then, he thought as he retrieved some paper and a quill and inkpot from the satchel he always carried about with him, he would write her letters, as if she was here. He could take them to her – in ten years! – his mind scoffed at him. Will sighed and retrieved a bottle or rum from the satchel. Several pages – and several bottles of rum - later, he was very drunk and very giddy, sitting in his cabin, having been hauled there by his well-meaning crew, who had not relished the idea of their inebriated captain falling overboard, even if he couldn't die that way. Will held the papers in one hand and a rum bottle in the other. For no particular reason he shoved the papers into the bottle. At first he was amused that they fit. Then he figured rum bottles were as good as anything for storing things, and if he could seal it with wax, it would even be waterproof.

The bells sounded for change of watch – observed even on a pirate ship with a semi-dead captain – something Will thought funny in his still-giddy state. Still holding the sealed rum bottle, he somehow found his way on deck. He leaned over the side, drunk and plagued with painful memories. The dolphins were still following the ship's wake. Their happy clicks and whistles were too much for Will. "Get lost! Go away you damn happy creatures!" he threw the rum bottle at them before he thought better of it, and went back to his cabin to sleep off his hangover.

_** Over the hills and far away,**_

_**She prays for his return each day**_

_**As sure as the rivers reach the seas,**_

_**Back in her arms she swears he'll be **_

On a small island a lone figure stands on a cliff, a pregnant woman holding her swollen belly. Every day she stands on the rough rocky outcropping – every day, although she sees nothing, knows that she will see nothing. Every day she mounts the cliff face, and faces out to sea, says a prayer into the prevailing winds in hopes that it will reach him. She isn't sure if prayers are any help, but there isn't much more she can do, but pray and miss him. She wishes he was here, to hold her hand when she felt sick all morning, to rub her back when the pressure was too much to bear, to help her decide on a name – but its no use thinking of it. And then – and then! Something floating in the sea catches her eye. A glitter, a shimmer, but sharper than sunlight on water, as her practiced eye can tell.

She lumbers as swiftly as she can down to the beach, and with great difficulty launches the small boat she always keeps there. It is in good condition – she keeps it tarred and oiled and in good repair. A woman of strength, she rows out alone and encounters a pod of laughing dolphins. The leader pushes something with his nose – a rum bottle! She laughs and thinks of Jack. Of a deserted island and a bonfire, rum, and really bad eggs. For the sake of the memories, she reaches into the water and retrieves the bottle. The dolphins sit up in the water and cackle hilariously. She uses a beltknife to scrape the wax sealing off the bottle and pull out the cork.

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho…" she sings to the dolphins and tips the bottle back, then laughs as only a couple drops come out. "Why is the rum always gone?" she asks of no one in particular, and smiles at her own memories. She is about to throw the bottle back to sea when she notices that it's not empty. Curious, she fishes around inside until she manages to extract several rather crumpled papers. She unrolls them and reads –

_To my Darling Elizabeth,_

_I do not know if this message will ever reach you, but I could not help but try to write something down. Even if you do not read this for ten years, or ever, I shall just speak in this letter as if we were face to face. _

_Damn, I hardly know what to say to you – so much, so much! And yet there was no time for words – all our time is now too precious to waste on words, and yet I feel I need to say them, I need to be with you, I need to share your life, and you to share mine. At every turn we are torn apart, and the only thing that keeps me from flinging myself off this bowsprit and into Davy Jones Locker – besides the fact that I don't think it would kill me, and therefore would defeat the purpose – is that I would never see you again. I miss you every day, and wish there was some way I could see you or talk to you – ten years is too long to bear without your face and your voice…._

Tears fall from her eyes and dot the parchments, and she hastily turns her head, so as not to smear the precious letters. Today her prayer is answered. She rows home and fetches fish from her stock, giving the dolphins, who have followed her, as much as they can eat. "You wonderful, beautiful, amazing creatures," she tells them through her tears, one hand over the papers, now folded up and thrust inside her shirt.

The letters inspire her, and since the baby does not let her sleep anyway, she stays up all night, writing by candlelight. Six pages and a final flourish on her name, _Elizabeth Turner, Pirate Queen of the Brethren Court –_ a small joke in reply to Will's signature, which had been: _William Turner, Pirate Lord of the Flying Dutchman_, she sealed her letter inside the rum bottle with the candle's hot wax. The next morning she climbs the cliff bluffs again. The clicks and whistles of the dolphins sound beneath her. She swiftly descends and heads out on the small boat. She had not expected the dolphins to come, much less bring her a message from Will. She has no guarantee her idea will work, but she is a woman determined to talk to her husband, a pirate queen, and now, a believer in miracles.

She leans over the side, and comes face to face with a sleep grey snout and a laughing black eye – so much like Will's! – she brushes tears from her eyes, and speaks to the brighteyed creature, "Thank you so very much for bringing me Will's message. If you would, I have a reply. I shall forever be in your debt if you would take this to his ship, the Flying Dutchman. I don't know what dolphins ask in payment, but if you would – " her tears began to flow again, and she angrily tried to brush them away. "I would do anything. I love him, you see, and I can only see him every ten years." She laughed. "I don't even know if you can understand me, but luck, prayers, and dolphins are all I have left it seems.

The creature looked at her and clicked several times, as if trying to communicate something. She didn't understand what it was trying to say, but she could tell it was intelligent, and she gently placed the rum bottle in the water and pushed it against the dolphin's snout. "Take it to my Will," she asked it. "I'll pray every day for your safe return." The dolphin nodded gravely to her, then chattered and squealed to its companions and left the little bay, pushing her precious bottle in front of him. She hurried to the cliff, cursing her pregnant belly and her sore ankles and back, as she determinedly climbed to the top of the bluff to watch the dolphins as they danced their way over the horizon. She sings softly, "Yo, ho, yo, ho, a pirate's life for me…"

_** Each night within his prison cell,  
he looks out over the seas.  
He reads the letters that she wrote.  
One day he'll know the taste of freedom. **_

"Capt'n! Capt'n! Them dolphins are back."

"Run them over, for all I care," Will said irritably.

"Uh, right. Yes, Capt'n."

The crewman ducked away as quickly as possible, knowing better than to get in the way when Will was in a mood. A happy surge of squeals, clicks, and whistles sounded from the ships wake. Will growled something unintelligible in the direction of the water. Then another cry from the quarterdeck.

"Sir! Capt'n! The dolphins – they have … the have a bottle of rum."

"What the…"

Will dashed up the steps to the quarterdeck and peered over the aft rails of the Dutchman. "Hand me your spyglass," he demanded of the coxswain at the helm. The startled man handed over the thin tube and Will trained it on the dolphin pod, the leader of which was – as had been reported – happily pushing a rum bottle. Upon closer inspection, Will determined that it was indeed the same rum bottle he had put his ramblings to Elizabeth in, the same bottle he had flung at the dolphins, and they had subsequently carried off. He had not seen them in months, yet here they were again, bottle in tow. Not really stopping to think, Will determined to recover the bottle. At least he'd save the letters to read over himself, and maybe show Elizabeth…someday.

"I'm going to get that bottle. Turn the ship about!" he commanded the coxswain, who swiftly spun the ships wheel with a hurried, "Yessir!" as Will dove overboard.

Will surfaced in the midst of the dolphin pod. Two of the creatures swam in close, under his arms and helped him tread water as a third, a brighteyed animal with a mischievous sparkle in his eye that somehow reminded Will of Jack pushed the rum bottle just within reach. "Well! Thank you!" Will wasn't sure what else to say to these creatures. The ones under his arms clicked at him and the brighteyed one let out a long sigh that sounded almost human. Will guess they were as frustrated as him by their mutual inability to communicate. He was saved from further attempts by a rope that landed expertly in front of him. Will looked up to see several of his crew standing at the deck of the Flying Dutchman.

"Grab hold, Capt'n! We'll pull you up!" Will obliged with a final word of thanks to the dolphins. Once aboard he hauled his soggy self to his quarters to change and have another look at the bottle. On his way he heard some of the crew mumble, "if he wanted rum that badly we have some extra hidden in the hold…"

Will settled into a chair by the desk in his cabin. Now dry, he turned the rum bottle over in his hands. And then he paused, looking at the wax seal. The wax was white. Every candle on his ship was red. He was sure of it. Will frowned at the bottle. Had someone taken out his letters? He withdrew his beltknife and scraped the wax off and popped the cork. The papers inside were rolled neatly, not stuffed, as his had been. He fished them out and spread them on the desk. One glance at the signature on the last page and he was certain his heart – although not in his chest – skipped several beats. He hoped it did not worry Elizabeth, whose signature graced the pages he held before him. Overjoyed, Will gathered the papers to him, content just to hold them for a moment. All night he sat in his room, gazing out through the open portal onto calm seas and reading Elizabeth's letter. He could not pore over those words too many times.

_** Over the hills and far away,  
she prays for his return each day.  
As sure as the rivers reach the seas,  
back in his arms she swears she'll be. **_

Elizabeth could not climb the bluff today. She had tried and finally resigned herself to staying on the beach. Even on the worst days she still came out to watch for the dolphins. A small hope, but hope was what she had survived on this long. Besides… there was something about that brighteyed creature she'd spoken to. She couldn't explain it.

Today her diligence is rewarded. The familiar clicks and whistles greet her. Unable to man the boat she walks as far out into the water as she can. The dolphins swim around her, a couple of them butting her bulging stomach with their snouts and making funny echoing noises in the water. Elizabeth wondered if they could talk to her baby.

Her fingers trailed over their sleek bodies. "Did you bring me a message from Will?" she asked them gently, reveling in the touch of the sea. She lives next to it, but she has missed being _in_ it, sailing on it. As soon as this baby is born, she vows, I will show it the wonders of the open sea. She hopes Will won't be upset if she raises a pirate, then laughs softly to herself. Her Will was a pirate himself, and she a Pirate Queen – the sea was in this baby's blood, particularly if the dolphins had anything to say about it.

The big brighteyed dolphin swam into view then, pushing – her heart leaped – a rum bottle, its neck sealed with red wax. She seized it and thanked the dolphins profusely, feeding them fish from the stock she had kept in hopes they would return. They sang their thanks as she finally slipped into the house to open the bottle and read her letters. She removed the parchments inside and replaced them with a stack of letters she'd written while waiting for the dolphins to return – just in case they had. Now that they had, she was sure this was providence's way of keeping them together. Leaving Will's letter on the kitchen table, she returned to the dolphins with the freshly sealed rum bottle, the white wax barely dried.

The lead dolphin, Brighteyes, as she was beginning to refer to him, whistled to her when she saw him. She waded out to give him the bottle. He swam about her and she closed her eyes. Through the water she felt…. something... she put out her hands and touched the dolphin's lithe body. Through the dolphin's eyes she saw swiftly – a ship, a great ship gliding through the seas. It left a large wake and the dolphins loved to play in it, then a dark man diving into the water – Will! This dolphin had seen Will! – she saw him take the bottle and return to the ship. Reluctantly she opened her eyes. Brighteyes chattered at her, and then knocked her arm with his snout until she dropped the bottle. With a happy whistle he was off again, to search for the Flying Dutchman's wake, Elizabeth was certain.

She went back inside to pour over Will's letters all night, curled in her bed, a candle on the bedside table and a small chest next to her round belly, the heart inside it beating softly and lulling both of them to sleep. "Someday it won't just be his heart – I'll be back in his arms…" Elizabeth told the small kicking life inside of her muzzily, her mind already drifting off to sleep. _**  
**_  
_**Over the hills and far away,  
he swears he will return one day.  
far from the mountains and the seas,  
back in his arms she swears he'll be**_

_**  
Over the hills and far away,  
she prays for his return each day.  
As sure as the rivers reach the seas,  
back in his arms is where she'll be.  
**_


End file.
